drunk and feeling down, and I just want to be alone; closed/COMPLETE

[flying_fatality]

WHO: Buffy Summers and Spike cptperoxide
WHAT: Drunkenness and misdemeanors! 8D
WHERE: Main town square
WHEN: Today, evening.

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[cptnperoxide]

Spike was not in the mood to ask nicely for anything. He was not in the mood for patience. And he certainly was not in the mood to watch how much he drank. He reeled in the street, clutching at the obscenely large pair of trousers he'd filched from the nearest passed out drunkard he tripped over in the bar.

"Beneath her," he raved, breathing alcohol onto the nearest window. "I certainly was beneath her, damn straight, and she bloody well liked it..."

Using one hand to brush - more like shove, but he could barely walk straight, let alone judge how hard he was pushing - away the people in his path, he made his way through the town square, here stumbling into a crate, there losing his trousers to a well-placed meat hook.

"Summers! I'll show you bloody beneath you!" He said, loudly, then subsided to mumbling. "Six feet beneath me... bloody death warrant..."

[flying_fatality]

Ugh. Most people didn't know who Billy Idol was anyway, and there were some that gawked at her- obviously familiar with the television show her life supposedly was. Groaning, Buffy continued her search until she heard her name being loudly and drunkenly yelled from somewhere nearby. British Accent? Check. Obnoxious voice? Check. Death threats? Check. It was Spike for sure.

She picked up her pace, appearing in front of Spike before looking away. "Put those back on, will you?"

The sun was going to rise and at this rate he was going to burn to death. Too bad Spike didn't actually care himself, in his current state. Decisively, she strode over to him and took the pants off of the meat hook, shoving them in his hands. "Put that on and I'll take you home." Guilty? Her? No way.

[cptnperoxide]

He wheeled at the familiar voice - all too familiar, he added mentally - his hand reaching out for the trousers and grabbing her wrist instead. With a drunken smirk he pulled her to him, leaning in to whisper against her ear.

"Well, Buffy... taking my trousers in public now, too? And this the girl saying she'd stake me if I told..." Spike moved in closer, trying to back her against the wall, head dipping down towards her neck as he murmured against her skin. "Not that I mind, love... we can do it however you like..."

[flying_fatality]

Ugh. She could smell the alcohol on his breath, the proximity of his mouth to her skin and the coldness of the wall as she backed up against it. Most people in her place would feel the panic setting in, the bile threatening to rise- but Buffy? She just felt annoyed. Powers or not she was going to kick his ass if he came any closer.

Buffy tried to push him off of her but his drunken dead weight was too heavy for her to move right now. Having to go out in the middle of the night to rescue the hapless creatures of the night that came your way? Yeah, that was kind of cutting into her sleep time. A sleep Buffy is a grumpy Buffy, after all. She drew her knee into his stomach sharply, hoping that the pain would jar him awake.

"Try that again and I might have to reconsider my no-staking-neutered-and-helpless-creatures policy."

[cptnperoxide]

He doubled over at the knee, losing his balance and pitching into the wall with a groan and a low chuckle.

"Oh come on Slayer, that was weak!" He said, catching his breath. For a minute or so he struggled with his pantlegs, trying to pull them on and half-succeeding, taking another few sentences to actually get them up to a decent height. "What - going soft? Well you are soft..."

Being sober would have given him the sense at least to stop trying to touch her. But he had never been much for wise judgment while under the influence, and didn't think twice about his hands wandering where they would go.